


S

by nakura



Category: One Piece
Genre: M/M, Masochism, Sibling Incest, this is not exactly porn but
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-12
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-08-14 14:00:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,699
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8016778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nakura/pseuds/nakura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Salirophilia - a sexual fetish or paraphilia that involves deriving erotic pleasure from soiling or disheveling the object of one's desire.<br/>Sexual sadism - the condition of experiencing sexual arousal in response to the extreme pain, suffering or humiliation of others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	S

**Author's Note:**

> OKAY so first of all, I want to apologize about their names. Some places refer to Doffy as "Doflamingo" and other as "Donflamingo", just like some use "Rocinante" instead of "Rosinante", so hope you guys don't mind it.  
> My first One Piece fic! It makes me want to write more, mainly of this 'pairing'.  
> Hope you enjoy.

“Your vulnerability inspires sadism.” – Henry Miller.

 

His hand passed by the eyes just to stop at eyebrows, lining them on place. His face was pale and still and quiet, quiet as he would ever always be, quiet as he should stay, even if it meant years – he hoped not, but things were hard. His eyes watched his brother’s, concentrated yet playful, as if nothing in the world could disturb their little moment.

It was rare to see Donflamingo’s eyes bare and free from barriers.

And that wasn’t the stranger thing about the situation. The way his hands felt like, the caring under fingers, the kind of look he gave his little brother, the soft smile… If they hadn’t destroyed an enemy’s ship right before that, one would even believe Donflamingo was **_good_**. Poor they would be on thinking that.

The elder’s hands finally settled up on Rocinante’s eyes, starting to draw from there. “Sorry for that shirt, I will give you one of mine. We’re about the same size, aren’t we?” he murmured, making the first lines of the makeup. Rocinante couldn’t respond with his voice, much less move his head, so a simple different sigh did the answer. Donflamingo smiled – Roci was staring up, but he knew exactly what his brother was doing. Such a long time, and it all remained the same: understanding the other’s personality by not relating to it was still something.

“I thought you were going to stay small like that… But you actually have grown up, huh?”

Rocinante didn’t react, yet, he knew Donflamingo could see through him. He shifted in place, starting to get affected by the odd atmosphere. He remembered the days where he was a simple extension of his father’s shadow, a child clinging into his mother’s arms, crying, weak, innocent. Even then his brother was a monster, a black sheep in the family and product of the rotten sadism born from high society. If before he could try to defend and cry for his biological father all he wanted, now he’d be put in the ground for defending kindness in front of the devil.

He could feel the weight from the makeup already, darkening his eyes, giving both anonymity and identity at the same time, just as Doffy’s shades did. Rocinante looked down, at his shirtless chest, the scars showing on the faded light, and Donflamingo pulled his head up with just one finger.

“Hey, don’t move, it will make it harder for me” then started filling the spaces between lines, weighing the drawing on his face even more. “Now that you don’t have those long bangs like before, you have to do something like this. Maybe wear some sunglasses?”

They stopped, locked their eyes – way too close-, and Rocinante nodded.

One eye was ready, and hands moved to the next one when Rocinante held it, roughly. He wanted to talk, wanted to say—All years guarded in his heart, how he planned to stop the other, how family was supposed to be... He opened his mouth and instinct spoke louder—so he shut it, letting go of his brother’s hand, looking down with a bit of embarrassment. And everything Donflamingo did was to smile even more, white teeth showing.

“Alright, so next is lipstick. Where is it?”

It was supposed to be on the bag, but so much happened on their way to that island. Their alliance had just formed, and so much was and would be unspoken, forever. Donflamingo seemed to accept his brother well, giving him a high place on the family, and they were already out for a mission. Bounty hunters showed up and they were strong - enough to steal one of their treasures-, however, not enough to run away from the consequences of such act. The last signal of them on the sea was a cut on Rocinante’s shoulder, which Donflamingo bandaged by now. Rocinante touched it while the other started looking around him for the lipstick.

It still hurt.

Donflamingo’s fingers touched his lips, and at first they intended to see how much the lipstick should cover, just to end up brushing them, analyzing with second intentions. Proximity was too much, and silence allowed to both of their breaths to be heard. He knew what that meant. Rocinante leaned in unconsciously, making his brother laugh again, covering his mouth with his hands, and his tongue brushed on the fingers slightly, pulling just one of them to wrap around his lips.

He couldn’t stare at his brother just yet. He would, eventually, but not now – not when he concentrated heavily and on anything at all, not when he sucked on the skin around the middle and the at the tip with need, not when guilty and desire fell into him at once. There was a voice in his head screaming that any contact beyond that would be wrong, and how it hadn’t been a long time since last time they did it, and how his brother just predicted everything beforehand since he used the same tactics before—And how he fell in his hand like a kitten, unprotected, innocent. A prey caught by his hunter.

Except both were hunters with the same blood, hair, eyes.

He pulled his hand closer, kissing the joints and the connection between fingers, disdaining the gold rings in the path.

The hand was pulled away, and Roci raised his eyes, swallowing down his embarrassment and trying to show some pride – what was left of it – and saw that big smile again, as always, repeated, never sure if it was mocking his attitude or enjoying it.

Donflamingo extended one hand, finally painting his lips with the dark lipstick, pulling the drawing to the right side, as his other hand went down to his body. And again, Roci wasn’t looking down, but he could feel how his chest warmed up with touches passing over his faded scars.

“I wonder how you got those.” Flamingo said out loud, managing to do both tasks at the same time, pressing palm against the other’s chest, playing with skin until he reached his stomach. Rocinante shivered, wanting to bite himself to maintain a better posture than before. He couldn’t tell him about that, neither by writing or actually saying, since both would lead to the exposing of his secret identity. So he just tried to keep cool, even if his insides tingled and back leaned forward, as if he was actually being controlled by his brother. He wasn’t. He didn’t feel or see any threads around his body. Besides, Doffy was a bad person, a pirate, criminal, ready to kill anyone, but… He wouldn’t do anything so soon with his little brother about **_this_** kind of situation.

Right?

Like he imagined, an unzipping sound filled the air; his cheeks reddened as he felt the hand going down, warmness enveloping his length as the paint was finished on his lips. He focused on the new wetness over his face, but all broke into sweat forming over his neck, and his brother leaned in, biting the exact spot with precision. It started gentle, and of course, turned hard, harder, flesh showing up. A mark formed on his skin, being broken, reddening, turning purple with his voice stopping right at the middle, trying to not give itself away. Donflamingo laughed under the new bruise, his voice low and husky, and the vibrations made Rocinante gulp loudly in excitement, hips shifting with the set of pace. Should he do something back but resist? He held his brother’s arms, clinging to black shirt using nails, downing his head as a moan escape his lips, finally.

Donflamingo used his free hand to pull his chin up, meeting his eyes and pretending to lean in for a kiss. His other hand gripped at the base of his cock, sliding up, thumb pressing against the side of the head, and Roci arched, mouth opening to receive his brother’s, eyes squeezing shut for a while.

“Good spot?”

Rocinante blushed further at that, gritting his teeth, but now that he crossed the trust line, there was nothing to fear – nothing near, at least. He held shoulders just as he did when he was a kid, with people he loved. He moved closer just as he wished when he was a teenager, lonely nights filled with wonder of what was happening without him. The more he looked into his brother’s eyes, the more embarrassment and joy grew within him, turning his body warmer. Doffy was jerking him off in an extremely slow pace, and he wanted to ask for more, but all he did was open his mouth wider and gasp from another bite on his neck, one on his shoulder, and—

Leaving his chin alone, a finger pressed against his bruise, reddening the bandage and tearing a groan from his throat. Agitated, he stared at Doffy, only to gain a serious look back, showing that that wasn’t punishment, but rather _torture_. The injure was teased more, and Roci downed his head, resting his forehead against his brother’s shoulder, closing his eyes so he wouldn’t see the pulse twisting and hand pulling at his cock, quicker, better.

_Doffy, please,_ he wanted to say. _Before someone comes,_ he pleaded in his mind. _Before I get conscious,_ he opened his eyes. The scar hurt again, and he moaned louder, Donflamingo kissing the side of his head in exchange. Squishing and other sounds made his pulse throb, and he was close, so close, wanting the pain to grow together with the grip, when, to his deception, his brother stopped pressing the bandages. Instead, he gripped his chin again and kissed him, not giving him time to think twice. His mouth was opened, tongue slipping in, brushing his own, and it wasn’t just decided and firm, as it had some sweetness tasted with wine that he enjoyed so much.

Paint smudged over when he spurted on his brother’s hands and own bare stomach.

Rocinante sighed, gripping on his chair now; guilty filling him as Donflamingo quickly cleaned both of them. Closing to his face again and passing a finger over the mess of his lips, Donflamingo smiled.

“Does it hurt?”


End file.
